


Reflection

by cestlavieminako



Category: Kamen Rider Ex-Aid
Genre: AU-ish?, Hiiro pining after Emu, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlavieminako/pseuds/cestlavieminako
Summary: Hiiro only wanted to restore Emu's smile, but it cost him what little happiness he had.





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Very slight spoilers for things mentioned in episodes 30-31 of Ex-Aid. I saw Hiiro with the Bakusou Bike Gashat, and this idea came about. Told from Hiiro's POV.

The intern always spoke of bringing the smiles back to his patients, even as he subsequently neglected himself.

When the coroner returned, however?

It was subtle. Almost unnoticeable, at least when others were present. But one could almost sense the difference in the intern. He seemed almost...lighter.

There was no doubt in my mind that they would progress into a relationship of some sort. As much as I would have hoped otherwise, it was clear to anyone how much the coroner’s death had affected the intern.

Of course, they both must have believed they were being discreet. And perhaps they were. Perhaps I only noticed because...well, that’s unimportant.

But the coroner would always stand close to the intern, occasionally clasping his shoulder to give him support. One’s hand would brush against the other’s, more times than I can currently recall, and a shy smile would always cross the intern’s lips.

There was one day that I had returned to CR after an operation, and the two seemed to abruptly move apart as I’d entered the lounge. Judging by the intern’s swollen lips, and the crafty grin the coroner shot him when they thought I was busy with the coffeepot? I could deduce what they had been engaged in just moments before.

But the worst was the afternoon when I returned to the lounge, relieved to find it empty. It was so rare to find a moment of peace like this. Someone was always present, or the licenseless doctor and his charge would barge in as if they lived there. At this point, even patients with Game Syndrome seemed few and far between.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound, and I frowned around my first sip of coffee. Had a patient been brought in that I was not aware of?

I rose from my seat, crossing the room to peer through the small window that overlooked the quarantine room.

In retrospect, I should have simply ignored the sound, or dismissed it as the sound of furniture settling.

Instead, I saw the coroner sitting on the small rolling chair situated near the small desk in the quarantine room, where we usually reviewed pertinent information for our patients.

The intern was on his lap, facing him and holding onto his shoulders, even as the coroner’s hands drifted down to his hips.

They both appeared fully clothed, but the intern’s coat was long enough to hide the fact that they were, indeed, in the midst of something much better suited to the privacy of their own apartments.

But at that moment, I was too shocked to look away.

From my vantage point, I had the perfect view of the intern’s eyes lulling closed. Watching his lips part slightly, another low moan drfiting out. I could see the coroner’s lips moving, most likely to quietly chide the intern for irresponsibly making such noises.

When he leaned in to capture the intern’s lips with his own, I finally found the strength to tear my gaze away, and moved from the window.

The intern deserved to be happy, I told myself repeatedly, even as I hastily exited CR and entered the elevator.

I merely wanted him to regain that spark of joy in his life, that had seemed considerably dimmed when the coroner had died before him.

I pressed the button for the hospital lobby, leaning my head against the cool surface of the elevator’s wall.

Then why did it hurt so much?

I knew that the intern didn’t think of me as anything other than a colleague, and I was entirely to blame for it. For my overall coldness toward him. For treating him as less than an equal.

Perhaps if I had shown him a bit of warmth, then...

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, and I had but a moment to arrange the mask of indifference upon my face.

It wouldn’t do for anyone to catch me in the midst of a crisis.

I had made my choices. And, although I regretted many of them, I had to live with them.

That was all.

I exited the elevator, once again the genius surgeon with the cool exterior, even as my heart ached.

This was how things needed to be.


End file.
